


Be Careful

by AJfanfic



Series: Geraskier Week 2020 [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraskier Week, Getting Together, He doesn't fight anything, M/M, One Shot, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soulmates, Soulmates Share Wounds/Pain, and that's kinda hot, but he would for Geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJfanfic/pseuds/AJfanfic
Summary: Soulmates share each other's pain, they share each other's wounds. Jaskier isn't entirely sure what his soulmate gets up to, but he knows he'd tear the world apart to protect his idiot who keeps getting mauled. Then Geralt returns from a fight with a cut that matches his and it all suddenly makes sense.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635637
Comments: 22
Kudos: 523





	Be Careful

Jaskier’s soulmate hadn’t gotten hurt in quite a while. Most people would be pleased by that. Jaskier knew better. His soulmate seemed to get antsy when his life wasn’t endangered frequently enough. After a dry spell, the injuries tended to be either much worse or much more plentiful. He was standing at the edge of a cave idly strumming his lute and wondering what the foolish man would get himself into this time. Maybe he’d go run into a haunted cave, like the other fool Jaskier had attached himself to had just done. To be fair, Geralt was more prepared than most to handle the wraith lurking there.

Maybe his soulmate was a witcher or something like it. It would make sense, with the amount of trouble he got into and his remarkable durability. Jaskier’s head snapped up from the chord progression he’d been toying with as a sharp flash of pain flared across his face. He whipped around, searching for some threat. The only sound was the muted clash of silver from inside the cave.

Think of the devil. Jaskier brushed his fingers across his cheek. They came back wet with blood. Not the worst he’d had by far, might even add to his dashing looks if it scarred. He wondered whether someone had thrown something at his soulmate, or if he’d been hit. Maybe he’d just tripped and had run into the corner of a table or something. Jaskier’s mind tended to go to violence first, and he felt he had enough evidence at this point to feel justified. One doesn’t exactly get bitten with the frequency his soulmate does without leading some sort of risk-prone life. Jaskier himself was quite risk-prone, and he’d been bitten no more than twice. Maybe three times, but he didn’t think jealous soon-to-be-exes counted.

His mystery man was often on his mind, but since he began traveling with Geralt, Jaskier had found his mind on him more and more often. The more he wandered, the more likely he was to run into him, but how would he know? It wasn’t like he was able to feel a bump or bruise, he’d have to get hurt enough to break skin in every village they stopped in and then compare wounds with every man around him. What if next time something took a bite of him, it was the last and they missed their chance? Both of them could end up bleeding out without ever meeting. Then Jaskier would be dead, likely by the side of the road, and he’d never know who he was. He hoped Geralt would at least bury him somewhere nice. And if he did find him, would he be able to settle down? Jaskier found the thought twisted his stomach. Him, keeping a little farm somewhere, singing locally. It just didn’t sit right. The thought of how Geralt would fare without him occurred and was quickly dismissed. He’d do just fine.

Geralt came out of the cave just then, as grumpy and dirty as usual, but not otherwise worse for wear. He pushed his hair back from his face.  _ Fuck.  _ A long, deep cut across his cheekbone. Unremarkable, except for its perfect mirror on Jaskier’s face. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Fuck.” Jaskier pulled his dagger from his boot and dragged his sharply against his palm.

“Fuck.” Geralt held up his hand, bloody palm out like an offering, or as if warning off a wild animal.

“It’s you. We’re soulmates.”

Geralt dropped to his knees, and the poet would have laughed had his friend not looked so devastated.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The words sounded like they’d been dragged over broken glass, and Jaskier was shocked his own throat didn’t hurt. “I thought...I assumed I’d killed you long ago.”

Jaskier sighed, “No luck there, I’m afraid. I live. Badly, I know, but I live.” Geralt’s stricken face was becoming entirely too much to bear. He reached down and hauled him up. “It’s not your fault, Geralt. None of it was your fault.”

“How are you so forgiving?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I’m not. Not at all. Actually, I’m quite vicious and vindictive.”

“Vindictive I’ll believe.”

The poet pressed the flat of his palm to Geralt’s lower back. He felt it like a brand through his thin shirt. His strong, delicate fingers unerringly traced the line running straight across his spine, then the one crossing it, and another and another, until he’s traced each of the fifteen lash marks that left scars across Geralt’s back like he had done it a thousand times before. He takes his time, but Geralt couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to, frozen as surely as if by magic.

“I would wake up in the middle of the night, after it happened, shaking from dreams where I’d tear the whip from the hands of whoever hurt you and turn it on them until their spine showed through. And I never felt in the least sorry for it.”

Geralt couldn’t help but shiver and lean into his touch, even as he ground out, “You didn’t know me, then. You didn’t know what I am.”

“That’s true. I didn’t know who you were, beyond someone who spent a lot of time hurting.” Jaskier’s hands mapped out Geralt’s life in wounds across his skin: claw marks along the outside of his thigh, the matching lines a little further up he’d put there himself, a bite to his shoulder just shy of his throat, the line Renfri had left across his forearm. “Now I know you.” His hands came up to hold his face between them so that he wouldn’t look away. Geralt wouldn’t. He hadn’t been able to for a long time. “Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I’d dream about revenge on your behalf, because you are a good man. Because I love you, which has nothing to do with the fact that we share our pain.”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes, please.”

Geralt was so painfully gentle. Jaskier bit his lip sharply, drawing blood from both of them. He pulled away, pressing their foreheads together.

“I haven’t broken yet. You don’t have to be careful with me.”

“Maybe I want to be careful.”

Jaskier stepped back and Geralt let him go. “Why?” He looked at him, standing there with his swords and his armor, their blood smeared across his face, and he was suddenly angry. “I’m not weak. I can keep up with you, I’ve managed so far.”

“When have I ever said you’re weak?” Geralt tilted his head at him, like Roach did sometimes, like Jaskier had seen children do when they’re scolded but don’t understand why. “Frustrating, certainly. You’re frustrating right now. But you’re as brave as you are foolish and I’m just glad that you are alive.”

His anger left him as quickly as it had come, leaving guilt to rush into its place. “You know, before you came out here, I was trying to not think about how meeting my soulmate would mean giving up traveling with you.” 

Geralt closed the space between them and kissed him like he was trying to make up for years of pain, reassurance and a promise all wrapped up in one. Jaskier kissed him back, soothing his tongue against the drop of blood welling on his lower lip. His fingers grazed against Geralt’s stubble-rough cheek and he flinched as they brushed the edge of the gash.

“Can I clean that up?” Jaskier twined their fingers together, pulling him towards Roach. “You don’t need another scar.”


End file.
